Now it was his turn to blush, just slightly, his tan cheeks turning the barest shade of red. “I figured you saw it as an opening, but the way you were acting tonight…”
“Like a hussy?”
“Hey, I like hussies.” He laughed at the mock offence she took. “One in particular, who has this bizarre clothes-on policy that makes things…challenging.”
“A good challenge?” Her breath hitched.
He nodded and tugged her closer still, not stopping until she was splayed out on his chest. “A smart, delicious, frustrating challenge.” He nipped at her ear. “One that I’m totally up for, by the way.”
“It’s just for a little while,” she whispered, nuzzling her face into his neck.
“Until the lingerie order gets here?” His hands were everywhere—squeezing her bottom, stroking her back, tangling in her hair. Her elastic band went pinging off the wall behind them and Rafe slid down the couch a bit, settling her more squarely on his lap. She rocked gently back and forth, cradling his growing erection in her soft heat. “Please tell me you ordered express shipping.”
She shook her head, her hair hanging down around them both like an intimate curtain. “Sorry,” she whispered. “They’re coming on the slow boat from England.”
“Damn,” he groaned. “I’m going to have to torture you, then. Make you as crazy for me as I am for you.”
“You’re crazy for—“ He cut her off with a punishing kiss, likehow dareshe not know that, and then they were done talking.
— FIFTEEN —
NINE days later, Olivia came home and found a brown package with UK postage propped against her front door. She might have a masochistic side, she decided, because after trying everything on, she tucked the box away in her dresser.Not yet. And not because they weren’t having a great time. They were having anamazingtime. Rafe had worked four day shifts in the middle of the week, and then three in a row starting on Sunday, but on his way home every night he’d stopped at her place for a few hours. They ate dinner and talked and kissed.
They kissed a lot. Slow and fast, hungry and sweet. As soon as he arrived, in between sharing the events of their days and gossip about people they knew, and for a long time before he regretfully left each night.
He didn’t need to leave. She’d thought about suggesting he stay—they’d slept together with clothes on for the better part of four years. They could do it now and not have sex. But she was afraid he’d say no. Rafe seemed to enjoy this early relationship renaissance. For reasons she knew were illogical and unfair, that pissed her off.
She wanted him to want more.
She wanted more.
So when he showed up Tuesday night, dead on his feet at the end of his run of shifts, she was prepared to tell him to go home. It wasn’t what she wanted, but she didn’t know how to show him her heart without risking too much. Without knowing that all his professions of intent would be followed by real, lasting action. But then he wrapped himself around her, sagging hard against her like her embrace was exactly what he’d needed at the end of his day, and none of it mattered.
“Hungry?” she whispered.
He shook his head. “Tired. Can I snooze on your couch while you watch TV? Is that awful?”
It sounded almost perfect. “I have a better idea.” She led him to her bed and reached for his belt. “Underwear counts as clothes for tonight.”
“I couldn’t get it up if I tried, baby. Which is a damn shame.” He laughed, a bone-weary sound that cracked her heart. They snuggled under the blankets, Rafe’s hand cupping her breast through her t-shirt, his lips pressed to the back of her neck. He started snoring, a light, reassuring sound she’d missed with all of her being, and as she watched streaming TV on her iPad, his erection slowly rose behind her.Soon, she promised in her head.
— —
Rafe woke up ready to convince Liv they should take their relationship to the next level. He’d spent all night wrapped around her body, and had taken her six ways from Sunday already in his dreams. But when warm sun hit his face and he reached for his wife, he found a note on her pillow instead.Gone to work at the diner. Come find me there for coffee.Beside her note was her discarded t-shirt, and like a lovesick teen he buried his face in it and fisted his ready and willing cock.Not this morning, buddy. But soon, really soon. He dragged himself into the shower, emerging five minutes later smelling like a fucking meadow, a fact that Liv found hysterical when he showed up for his promised caffeine hit.
“You smell pretty,” she whispered as she sashayed past him. He was going to miss that little apron when she stopped working there. He wanted to fold her over his lap and spank her soundly for being cheeky. “And you look…frustrated,” she added after she filled his cup. She set the carafe to the side and leaned across the counter, kissing him lightly on the cheek.
He shot his hand out and cupped the back of her neck, holding her in place. “That’s not a good morning kiss,” he muttered, trying to keep a smile at bay.
She arched one eyebrow and took a deep breath, her pupils dilating. “Oh no?”
He shook his head and pulled them back together, ignoring the dozen or so other people in the place. They could all go to hell. There was only one way he wanted his wife to kiss him in the morning—long, hard and dirty. He licked across the flesh of her lower lip, and then inside her mouth as she sucked in a breath, parting her pretty little lips. Far too quickly for his own liking he pulled back, enjoying the slightly glazed look on her face. “I’ll take the special.”
She stared at him for a minute, her cheeks pink and her lips swollen, then gave him a mock-scowl and scribbled his order on her pad. “You think you’re something else, don’t you, Rafe Minelli.”
“That I do, Olivia Minelli.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “Thank you for last night.”
Her eyes softened and she shook her head. “You work too hard.”
